


some velvet morning, years too late

by masakali



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Historical AU, Lots of Original Characters - Freeform, Regency, So many tropes in here, Sort Of, the sacred 28 is high wizarding society lmfao, wrote this after watching bridgerton so if you recognize some stuff don't @ me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29035386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masakali/pseuds/masakali
Summary: Rose Weasley has been in a number of predicaments in her short, frequently upsetting life. Yet, none could compare to waking up somewhere in the early 19th century, transported by a perfectly-aimed-but-well-dodged bat-bogey hex and a mystery magical artifact from her lab back in the future, leaving her with absolutely no way of getting back.To make matters worse, her inadvertent traveling companion just had to be Scorpius Malfoy, intended recipient of said bat-bogey hex and all-around pain in her arse.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy & Rose Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 43





	1. monday morning, 2032

**Author's Note:**

> So I uh, I watched Bridgerton. Twice.  
> I am so, so sorry for this.

Looking back, there are a few things I would have done differently. Quite a few things. In fact, if ever given the power of a second chance, I would have not done a single bloody thing the same way. 

My first grave error was accepting Scorpius Malfoy into my laboratory. Granted, I had put up a fuss - of  _ course _ I had, I wouldn’t accept such an intrusion lying down - and was told rather nastily by a supervisor I respected to “stop being childish”, but perhaps I could have done more. I could have flat-out refused to continue with that vile man-child in the room. I could have thrown more of a tantrum. Hell, I could have even quit on the spot. Anything would have been a better outcome than  _ this. _

“This”, of course, being “dumped rather unceremoniously into the early 19th century by some unknown force of magic which could have been caused by any number of things in my well-stocked laboratory, but certainly not anything I had access to  _ now _ ”. 

My predicament was, for a number of reasons, deeply alarming. The most important being that time travel across such distances was really  _ not  _ okay - unless I had somehow managed to stabilize such travel, which meant that my research was a success! But on a more pressing note, it meant that I was still rather fucked. Right. Priorities. 

Perhaps I could trace the beginning of this misfortune back. It could have started with taking a job as an Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries, and choosing to perform my thesis research on long-distance and long-term time travel. Before that, maybe - when I was about thirteen, and dad let slip that mum used a Time-Turner to take every class offered by Hogwarts, an endeavor I had also wished to undertake but couldn’t because the means did not exist. Or perhaps my parents were to blame just generally, for creating a child equal parts intelligent and hot-headed, and then arming her with a rather stupid Gryffindor bravado that made her act first, and  _ then _ wonder what the fuck she’d been thinking. 

You see, this probably would not have happened if I hadn’t risen to Scorpius Malfoy’s bait, and attempted to bat-bogey hex him (so maybe this was Aunt Ginny’s fault for teaching me?), and he, being an Auror (Uncle Harry’s fault), managed to dodge the hex very easily, meaning it had hit the wall and ricocheted around the room, hitting literally everything on its way. 

Perhaps I wouldn’t have needed an Auror in the room at all if I hadn’t been messing around with time in the first place. Then I wouldn’t have been tasked with creating Time Turners modified to a baseline 10-minute rewind, allowing for a self-contained closed time loop which would allow Aurors, in very serious and necessary circumstances, to step into their own missions. Then Scorpius Malfoy, easily one of my least favorite humans to ever exist, wouldn’t have popped down for a practice run. 

In short, I had no choice but to conclude that the problem probably truly began when I was born. It had really just been one disaster after another since.

*

“Absolutely not.”

“Morning to you too, Weasley.”

“No,” I said flatly, shouldering past him to my laboratory door, “Whatever it is, my answer is no. It’s Monday, Malfoy. It’s early. I don’t want to start my week like this. Bugger off.”

He merely slumped harder against my door, rolling his eyes. “Like I’d be here voluntarily,” he snarked, “I’ve got better things to do than stare at that  _ beast  _ you call hair -”

“- great, so fuck off, then -”

“- or even be here at all, honestly, Weasley, you’re off-putting enough as it is, this dingy place makes it even less appealing to ever be down here voluntarily.”

“No one is supposed to be down here, it’s the Department of bloody Mysteries,” I snapped. “And to that point,  _ fuck off _ .”

That’s how my supervisor had found us: standing outside my office door at 9:05 on a Monday morning, bickering like we had never progressed past Hogwarts graduation 8 years ago. It had taken a rather humiliating dressing-down for me to finally and begrudgingly allow Auror Malfoy into my workspace. Another ten minutes of strained politeness. Then some quip about something probably rather stupid and harmless, but it was Monday morning damn it, and I had not yet had my coffee, and I’d forgotten how much I hated Malfoy with his stupid degrading spot-on insults, and I was  _ stressed _ , and I actually was rather single, and I actually was feeling a bit pathetic after being stood up by Tristan McLaggen (which, by the way, I’d have to kill Albus for disclosing to Malfoy) - and I had snapped a bit. 

It had resulted in a booger spell hitting almost every piece of volatile, ancient, and extremely expensive equipment in my lab, ultimately producing some horrifying and unknowable bit of magic. But uh yeah, just a bit.

The next thing I knew was a foul stench which seemed to be emanating from the ground itself. At this point it occurred to me that I was in fact waking up in mud. Or maybe shit. Hopefully just mud. Then I became aware of a voice, which seemed to be speaking to me, saying - 

“Miss? Are you alright? Miss?  _ Miss _ ?”

I opened my eyes, groaning, and accepted the hand of a flimsy-looking kid who heaved me onto my feet and held a steadying hand to my elbow. I blinked my surroundings into focus: a thin anxious face under a very battered vintage hat - some sort of...farm situation? - a rickety stone cottage - 

“I think I’m lost,” I realized aloud. Buggering fuck. “Where am I?”

“You’re a bit outside Newport, Miss,” the boy supplied. 

Fucking  _ Newport _ ? I was just in London! Right. Well. I’d have to maybe apparate back - obviously not in front of this boy, just in case he was a weirdly-dressed muggle - 

“Erm,” I said, once I realized I’d been silent for an odd amount of time, which was clearly a bit off-putting to the child, “I’m just gathering my bearings, thanks for helping me up, I’ll just, erm -”

“Was you apparating, Miss?” the boy asked. “Me pa says witches should always apparate in the company of a wizard.”

Yes. Thank  _ Merlin _ . A wizard. A weird, sort of misogynistic little wizard, but a wizard nonetheless. 

I opened my mouth to tell him off a bit, and then decided that this was probably not the time for it. “Uh.” My brain scrambled to accommodate this suddenly mature decision to pick my battles. “Yes. I was in London, and now I’m - here, so -”

“Me pa’s in the field now, Miss, but he can Apparate you back. Young witches shouldn’t strain themselves,” the boy offered.

“I’m perfectly capable -” I started somewhat hotly. The boy gave me a dubious sort of look, and I had to admit to myself that perhaps one shouldn’t declare themselves “perfectly capable” of apparition when one had done so directly into some shit-mud in Wales. 

“Simon!” 

I was saved from trying to gather my dignity by a woman, who came hurrying out of the cottage looking very harried. She was carrying a young boy in one arm, which was a small feat considering how heavily pregnant she appeared to be. “Simon, what on Earth -”

“Miss got lost apparating, Mama,” Simon protested as the woman grabbed him by the upper arm and hauled him away from me, looking alarmed. 

“Yes,” she panted, eyeing me, “it appears so, but Simon, we mustn’t talk to strangers, isn’t that right?”

“Well, Ma, she apparated right into the hog pen, what was I to do?”

I wished I didn’t know that I was definitely covered in pig shit. 

“I’m really sorry,” I offered to the nice lady, who was still giving me a disgusted look, “I don’t even know how I got lost.”

“Well, Miss -?”

“Oh, er, Weasley.” I wondered if it was maybe smarter and less embarrassing to give a fake name - “er, um, I mean, er...W...easley.” Great. Brightest witch of my year and not able to come up with a fake name on the spot. 

The woman’s eyes widened. I wondered if my cousins would ever let me live this down when they inevitably saw the story in the next edition of Witch Weekly, a publication that absolutely delighted in printing nasty stories about me and the other less impressive members of my extended family. I decided this was an apt time to make my escape.

“I was actually just in London, so, I just have to find my wand in here somewhere,” I glanced around, but it was all mud, “- er, as soon as I find it, I’ll just be on my way -” 

“Miss Weasley,” the woman interrupted in a high, breathy sort of voice. She wobbled into a curtsy, at which point the child clutched in her arms wiggled free and darted off, “please, excuse me - I did not know - the pigsty - in our farm - oh my word -”

I, with two very famous parents, was used to this sort of treatment. The curtsy was still pretty weird. 

“Uh, do you happen to have a wand? Do you think you could summon mine for me?” I asked awkwardly, hoping to ignore the curtsy altogether.

“Oh, yes - of course -”

It was at this point, when the woman waved her wand and fuck all happened, that I started to get a bit frustrated. It was an inconvenience to be wandless. To say the least. 

“Floo?” I asked hopefully. 

The fourth time the Floo Network deposited me back into their small but clean living room rather aggressively - almost as if it was annoyed at me - I started to feel a small sliver of panic. Apparently, I did not have the clearance to enter the Ministry, my own flat, my parents’ home, or even my grandparents’ home. 

“Right,” I said, feeling a little bit at a loss, “maybe an owl then? I could write to someone to come and get me.” Utterly humiliating, but I was running out of options. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I’ve taken the liberty, Miss Weasley,” the woman said. By the tone of her voice, it was clear this woman thought I was an idiot. 

“Oh,” I said, wondering how to politely tell her that my parents wouldn’t get to their fan mail for months (years, if my dad was the intended recipient), “really, it’s no trouble, I’d better do it -”

“Your Aunt is sending a carriage,” she finished with another little curtsy.

“A…carriage,” I echoed weakly.

Which one of my mad aunts was sending a bloody carriage? Probably Ginny. Aunt Ginny had a slightly deranged sense of humor. How long did it take to get a carriage from London to Newport anyway?

Apparently fairly quickly, as I was collected from the small cottage in twenty short minutes. The little family seemed quite rudely happy to see me go. It was when the carriage arrived at the front of an enormous estate and I was curtseyed through the front doors to be greeted warmly by an older woman whom I had never seen in my entire life that I let the panic set in. 

Something was wrong. 

Very, very wrong.


	2. tuesday (?), 1800s (??)

When something entirely fucking absurd is happening, the brain tries to accommodate. I traveled through the rest of the evening in a sort of haze, accepting the events as they happened to me. Apparently my confused and dazed state was something referred to as “female hysterics” and accepted readily. I was deposited into a large bedroom and promised in a soothing voice that dinner and a bath would be up soon. My robes and dress - covered entirely in mud and shit - were bundled out next by a house elf. I let myself assume that they were definitely thrown out. Fuck. I hoped I hadn’t left anything important in any of my pockets. I may have lost my favorite muggle chapstick. 

It was when I woke up the next morning, still in that same bedroom as last night, that I realized it was probably time to accept that I was definitely no longer in the 21st century. It also occurred to me that a complete stranger had seen my boobs and washed my hair last night in a giant tub conjured into the bedroom. Probably the lesser of the two big revelations, but it was a bit depressing that a maid had seen me naked after over a year since anything resembling a sexual partner.

I startled violently when the door opened, sitting up fast and yanking my blankets to my chest. 

“Oh! My apologies, Miss Weasley. Good morning. Would you like your tea here, or do you feel up to dining with Master and Mistress Prewett?” The same girl from last night - the one who’d seen my tits - rattled this all off rather quickly and nervously, probably worried by my display of female hysterics from the night before. 

“I’d like to go down,” I said. “I’m feeling much better. Er. Thank you for, erm, bathing me.”

“Well, of course, Miss,” she said. “Now. Shall we begin on your hair? We’ve ordered some new dresses for you, you look to be Alice’s size, until then you will fit nicely into one of hers.”

“Oh,” I said weakly. Who the fuck is Alice? “That’s great. Thank you.”

I awkwardly clambered out of bed and deposited myself into the chair in front of the vanity in the room. My hair looked...horrendous. I’d managed, back when I still lived in 2032, to contain it by liberally applying Sleekeasy (had to support Uncle Harry’s fortune somehow) and tying it all away from my face for good measure, which helped contain almost all of it. However it appeared just a single harrowing event had it reverting back to its former state of bursting out of my head in a mass of tangled, frizzy waves. Finicky little bitch. 

“How lovely,” the girl merely said happily, regarding my head with what appeared to be cheer rather than the flat-out horror I was so used to. With this frankly unhinged assessment, she flicked her wand, it began steaming, and she got to work curling my hair. I made a mental note to grab this spell from her before I left this time period.

The rest of the dressing process went about as uncomfortably as one could get with a full stranger tying, lacing, and otherwise pinning me into my outfit of the day: a long, oddly-shaped dress with a high neck and long sleeves, paired with my hair tied up into a loose, trailing bun. It was unfortunately not the worst fashion choice ever made in my lifetime. 

“Let me take you to their sun room,” she said, as I rose with what I hoped was a grateful smile.

The home that my apparent aunt and uncle occupied was absolutely enormous, and adorned with the type of decor that made one feel as though perhaps this family would be deserving of a peasants’ revolt of some sort. I shuffled past stuffed velvet sofas, huge flower arrangements charmed with butterflies, ceilings painted in moving cherubs and dancing, laughing maidens. The place teemed with an easy sort of magic. By the time I was deposited in the sun room to a sudden, hushed silence, the leftover magic was tingling in my fingertips. I mourned the loss of my wand. 

“Er,” I said. 

“Ada, dear!” Aunt Harriet (as she’d breathlessly introduced herself last night), recovered first. I’d almost forgotten that everyone had decided I was someone called Ada Weasley. I assumed she was a real person and I was merely briefly stealing her identity. 

I sat down in an empty seat on the table, which was also occupied by four members of the Prewett family. Immediately, food appeared on the plate. Thank Merlin.

“Did you really show up at the Abbotts’ farm in your underthings?” The boy chirped as soon as my face was stuffed with as much bacon and eggs as I could muster. 

“ _ Daniel! _ ”

Although he was reproached, they all proceeded to stare at me somewhat eagerly. Uncle Albert, who up until this point I had only heard about from a bleating, anxious Aunt Harriet, had even snapped down a corner of the paper to peer from behind it. He seemed lovely.

“I don’t really know how I got there,” I finally said after I’d managed to swallow down the food past my suddenly dry throat. “It must have been an apparition accident.”

“Well, naturally,” the girl cousin piped up, smiling at me encouragingly, “It must be terribly difficult journey - all the way from America!”

I took another big bite of food so that my bulging eyes would appear as the result of an overstuffed face rather than outright surprise and bad acting. Evidently, I was here from America. 

“Yes,” Daniel replied, “but how come she was in her  _ underthings _ ?”

For the record, I was in a very modest white shift dress that fell past my knees. Malfoy had actually once called it “the least flattering article of clothing I’ve ever seen, including Headmistress McGonagall’s bloomers”, a distinction I did not believe was even remotely warranted. 

Oh, wait, holy shit. Malfoy. Was he - home? Was he  _ here _ ? 

“Does, erm, everyone know about that?” I asked, quelling my sudden concern for Malfoy. I needed a distraction before I panicked.

“No one thinks you were compromised, cousin.” The encouraging one - probably Alice - gave me another one of those very kind, reassuring smiles. 

“Compromised?” I asked. 

“By a  _ man _ ,” Daniel supplied. 

I stared, fork hanging limply against the plate. Was this small child insinuating what I thought he was? 

“If you were, I could duel him. Once I’m old enough. For your honor.” At this, Daniel jumped up, probably four feet tall of bravado, and brandished an imaginary wand. I supposed I should have been grateful for the offer, but I was still blinking in shock at the utterly cavalier way I was expected to discuss my apparent...compromisation. With a  _ child _ . Who, for some horrifying reason, knew about these things. 

“No,” I said quickly. “No need to duel anyone. I was - erm - robbed, you see. They took the dress, too. Silk. I apparated away as soon as I could.”

There was an audible breath of relief from the two adults and cousin Alice. 

“Thank Merlin,” Aunt Harriet said. “We’d hate to introduce you to good society with a particular agenda in mind.”

My mouth flapped open a few times before I was able to respond. “What sort of...agenda?” I finally asked. 

“You know,” Alice said, now buttering toast without a care in the world, “An urgent match, rather than one for love.”

“Just in case,” Aunt Harriet added. 

“Right,” I said, smiling quickly before turning my attention to my plate. I had to remember where I was - an assault would have been my fault, somehow, as the woman in the situation. If I’d been from here I’d have to get married as soon as possible just in case word got out that I was “damaged goods”. Merlin. I had to get out of here, this was no place for the daughter of the woman who’d founded S.P.E.W. Which reminds me -

“I’ll need a new wand,” I announced, looking back up.

“Oh?” Aunt Harriet blinked around at my hands, as if she was suddenly noticing that I was not currently holding one. 

“Mine was - taken, I believe. Perhaps someone could accompany me to London to acquire another?” 

“Oh dear, no need for two trips,” she said dismissively, “we’re all headed to London for the season in just a day, after all. Philip has gone ahead to oversee the opening of Prewett Manor. I do believe your brother and his family shall be there as well, if you’d prefer to stay at Weasley House - though what a ruckus indeed, with all your nieces and nephews. So of  _ course _ you are welcome to stay with us. It is also Alice’s first season, and I am sure she is eager to have a companion.” 

I struggled to act as though the information presented to me was not one big shock after another. I’d resorted to blinking rapidly as a means to process. 

“Were you out in America?” Alice asked. 

Merlin, how I wish I’d just taken breakfast in my bloody room.

“Out - in - uh -” 

“Alice, dear, high society like ours does not exist in America. I am sure my brother-in-law did not want his young daughter  _ out _ , potentially being the only members of the Twenty-Eight over there,” Uncle Albert sniffed, fully behind his paper now that my virtue was deemed intact.

“All that...new money,” Aunt Harriet added, the disdain clear in her voice. 

I frowned into my eggs, feeling oddly protective of America, a place I had never even visited. 

“Oh, before America, then!” Alice said impatiently, “I am sure you have been out at least  _ once _ somewhere. Where were you before New York?”

I opened my mouth, brain utterly blank. I just need one country. Just one bloody location to exit my mouth.

“Egypt, was it, Ada dear?” Albert murmured helpfully. I now suspected that the paper was entirely for show.

“Egypt, yes,” I agreed readily. “And before that, Greece!” Why not, right? Apparently this Ada Weasley was a well-traveled individual, lucky bugger.

“Oh,” Alice sighed, resting her face gracefully in her palm, the picture of wist, “how very lucky you are, dear cousin, to have traveled the world! Oh, was it terribly exciting breaking curses with your Papa?”

“Don’t be silly, darling, a woman of Ada’s breeding and countenance would not have been breaking curses,” Harriet said, before I could answer, “I am sure she was engrossed in her wifely studies, waiting for the day she could come back to England and find a suitable match!” She ended this proclamation with a bright smile directed at me, and I could easily imagine why Ada Weasley was still in America. 

Not wanting to rock the boat here, and thoroughly grateful that I didn’t actually have to come up with lies on the spot, I nodded weakly. Perhaps once Alice and I had a quiet moment I could introduce her to feminism. I was practically itching to protest, as if I could single handedly dismantle the patriarchy with a rousing speech at brunch.

“Oh, you must be so accomplished, then,” Alice continued breathlessly, seemingly incapable of letting me eat in peace. I did want to strangle her a bit, but I could see how my arrival was probably the most exciting thing to happen to her, having apparently never been out before. “I’ve been taught magic, of course, and piano, drawing, embroidery. Mama has also given me lessons on managing a household.” At this, she blushed very prettily, looking down. 

Right, so. I was apparently not accomplished at all according to the standards of this society.

“I’ve studied a lot of magic at Hogwarts,” I said feebly. “Er, and after.”

“Curse-breaking?” Daniel asked loudly. He’d been eating quietly this whole time, apparently waiting for the perfect moment to ask  _ his _ questions.

“Yes,” I responded, just as Aunt Harriet said, “of course not!”

There was a bit of an awkward silence.

“Your cousin, the poor dear,” she finally continued in a rather high voice, “has had some gaps in her womanly education. Her father did his best, of course, I’m sure. But with the death of her dear mother at such a young age, well -” She didn’t bother finishing her sentence, but did press her hand rather theatrically to her mouth. I quickly rearranged my face to one of tragedy so as not to appear too cavalier about my dead mother. 

This, thankfully, dampened the mood for the rest of our meal, though I could tell from the quick, furtive looks the kids kept throwing my way that I was not done being questioned. 

*

Alice, who it appeared was both incredibly polite and yet, rather did not care for boundaries at all, pounced first. She climbed into my bed at promptly 8 p.m., which was the time of evening we were expected to fall asleep around here. 

“You can go, Bertie, thank you,” she said sweetly to my maid, who had just finished overseeing the house-self who was siphoning the water out of my bath. It seemed I was supposed to accept and swiftly get over the fact that I could not possibly be expected to perform such a monumental task as bathing on my own. On top of this, the entire staff here thought it was some quirky habit of mine to want to bathe daily, which raised a lot of questions in my mind I was rather hesitant to voice aloud in fear of the answer. With a small curtsey, Bertie left, and the house-elf popped away. 

“So,” Alice said, settling in eagerly, “tell me everything about your life, cousin.”

“Uh,” I responded. I suspected I’d had my day of relative peace thanks to Aunt Harriet, who had probably forbade her young and impressionable daughter from trying to learn anything about the rest of the world. She had distracted her with a day full of packing about a hundred individual dresses into a small army of trunks. I had floated around uselessly, sort of just taking it all in. It was evening before I knew it - it occurred to me that I’d probably wandered around with a sort of bug-eyed gape all day, still processing that this was all actually real. 

“If you’re worried about angering Mama, I promise I won’t tell,” she said. I smiled weakly. 

“What is it you’d like to know, then?” I said.

“Hogwarts,” she sighed. “I wished so badly to go, but Mama said a governess was perfectly acceptable for me. Little Daniel isn’t going for another three years, and Phillip won’t tell me  _ anything _ . Was it amazing? Were all the boys perfectly dashing?”

It was amazing - the classes, the magic, my friends. The boys, er - “perfectly dashing” didn’t seem quite an apt description.

My brain supplied a brief montage of the most prominent males of my Hogwarts career: Albus, shirtless, skinny, hair charmed to flash green and silver, thumping his chest and screaming hoarsely at a party like some sort of obnoxiously pale fifteen-year-old Tarzan after chugging one (1) butterbeer as if it was some major bad-boy feat;

James, dazed, bleeding freely from his nose, grinning as he raised a fist with a fluttering snitch, then passing out cold almost immediately after;

Fred, eating literally any meal, truly a sight to behold if one wanted to swiftly lose one’s appetite;

Malfoy, sneering down at me as I blushed fiery red, our first real interaction at fourteen despite years of his best friendship with Al. I was in my fourth year of a crush-at-first-sight situation that, sadly, endured for seven despite his very vocal and frequent disdain for the latter three. I’d plucked up all my Gryffindor courage to ask him if he’d be my partner for a Runes project, but, being rather stupid and horrible at human interaction, I’d blurted out something along the lines of “heard you got a T, I reckon you could really use the help”. He had recoiled, ears tinged pink, and then spat that he’d rather get another T than spend a second near my hair. 

“Hogwarts,” I said finally, “taught me more than I’d ever imagined. I loved it.” It felt nice to finally say the truth for once.

“And the boys?” she prompted impatiently.

“Er. A bit stupid, if I’m being honest.”

She dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

“Well, what of your travels, then?” It seemed she was determined to find me interesting. “Do you know lots of magic?”

I would not consider myself “well-traveled”. The magic, at least, I could boast about.

“I’d say quite a bit,” I said, “I learned a lot while traveling.” I paused, wondering if maybe I could - “Actually,” I said carefully, “while in Egypt and Greece, I was studying time curses. I’m still very fascinated by the topic. Do you know of anyone -?”

“No one ever tells me  _ anything _ about interesting magic,” she dismissed, “do you know how to brew a love potion?”

Upon informing her that yes, I indeed did know how to brew a number of love potions and had in fact personally brewed Amortentia, Alice was nearly inconsolable in her glee. I ended the night with a headache, wishing that my cousin wasn’t such an exhausting combination of annoying, sweet, and useless, and wishing even more that the day hadn’t ultimately gone to waste. I had no better idea of how to get back tonight than I did this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is chapter two! I must warn you all, I am not some paragon of fast updates, despite this fast update. I just happened to have the first two chapters mostly done, and figured I'd get this out soon as an apology for the 1) lack of Scorpius and 2) general world building before getting to Scorpius, who, let's face it, is all we really care about.


	3. thursday, 1817

The carriages flew. 

This wasn’t entirely unprecedented as an act of magic, of course, we all knew about the flying carriages utilized by Beauxbatons, though I had never personally been in one. I had once travelled on an airplane for a muggle vacation to Australia, and could confidently categorize it as one of my least favorite experiences. Today, however, that muggle airplane fell to spot #2 on Worst Airborne Travel Of My Life -

Because these carriages  _ flew _ , haphazardly yanked along by thestrals through the sky, rattling and bumping the whole while. 

“You mean you’ve ridden a broomstick before?!” Daniel yelled at me, somehow entirely unfazed by the fact that we were likely going to die. I wish I hadn’t opened my mouth and informed Alice and Daniel that I preferred broomsticks when they inquired as to why I was so miserable and pale up here. 

“Yes,” I yelled back, deciding not to elaborate on the fact that I was once a rather good Keeper, “now, please, can we just sit in silence - I think I’m going to be sick -”

They shared a look and a giggle at my expense, but I truly couldn’t be bothered to care. I longed for a wand so I could - I dunno - stupefy myself maybe. That was something I had wheedled my way into getting later today. Well, I had wheedled my way into being allowed to visit Ada’s brother, who was going to be wheedled into going to Diagon Alley for a wand later today. 

“How did you get around all over the world?” Alice asked, once I had heaved the contents of my stomach out of the window. 

“Apparition,” I offered, a touch of hysteria in my voice, “Floo, Portkey, Broom - even walking is preferable -”

“Well, yes, but,” here Alice made a face, “that’s so terribly common!”

This time I puked in response to  _ that _ . 

At this, they finally gave up trying to get me to chat. Daniel started playing a magical yo-yo that could pirouette if spun properly, while Alice decided to monologue for our pleasure. While she went on about balls, dresses, and feathers for our hair, I gathered my bearings. 

It was clear at this point that I was trapped in the early 1800s, likely somewhere in the first two decades. I had been here for two full days already, with no discernible change to the laws of nature as I knew them. While this second fact was comforting in more ways than one, it was still a point of panic - the last time someone had attempted to time travel hundreds of years, it caused quite an upset in the space-time continuum. Clearly, whatever object I’d hit with my curse - and it truly could have been any one of the many ancient time-related artefacts that Rose of 2032 collected - was somehow configured to allow for this. How on earth did I possess a ground-breaking magical artefact without even knowing about it? And how on earth did I let myself get so riled up that I hit it with a bat-bogey curse? Merlin, I truly despised myself sometimes.

“Oh, and I should tell you about our eligible bachelors,” Alice continued. It appeared she had exhausted the topic of hair adornments for now. “It’s very important that you know them by name, I’m afraid you’re a bit behind since you’ve just gotten back - I’m sure many of them won’t mind since you’re so worldly and beautiful, but I’ll run down the list for us!”

Daniel groaned. I smiled vaguely, which she took as effusive encouragement to proceed. 

My main point of focus, of course, should be on how to get back. Once I got back I could scour through my office and locate the time-traveling device - I had plenty of time for that. As of now, however, I could very well be running out of it.  _ We  _ could very well be running out of it. I had to account for the possibility that Malfoy was also here, somewhere, somehow. 

“ - there’s Viscount Abbott, he’s  _ just _ out, only three years older than us. Mama said not to waste our time on him, he’s too young to settle down. But he’s good to know, at least, I’ve heard he’s terribly handsome -”

Merlin. Fuck. Bollocks. What a colossal cock-up.

“ - and then there’s the Count Longbottom, enough money to last that family for  _ centuries _ but of course he had to be an odd one, took up a position at the Department of Mysteries -”

I whipped my head up. “Department of Mysteries?” I croaked. 

Alice blinked, mouth still slightly open. “Oh, you were actually listening to me?”

“He works at the Department of Mysteries?” I confirmed, trying not to sound too aggressive about it. “Count Longbottom? And he’s single?”

“ _ Finally _ , she shows some interest in her future!” she crowed, beaming. “Yes! Count Longbottom is single, he is 29 years old, and he is very, very eligible. I shall tell Papa and Rupert that you are interested!”

I smiled, mind racing. “Yes, that would be great, Alice. Thank you.”

She waved me away. “Now, there are  _ plenty _ others who are also  _ far _ less odd from what I’ve heard, so listen carefully.”

Admittedly, I did not. I had to get into the Department of Mysteries. That was more of a plan than anything else I’d come up with thus far. This Count Longbottom could be my ticket in. I wasn’t sure, exactly, how...since the Department trained Unspeakables to rather zealously guard said secrets. Perhaps I could seduce it out of the man? Merlin. Unfortunately for me, I had all the charm of a wet sock and likely couldn’t seduce anything out of anyone, but maybe if I just figured out exactly what sort of security system the Department was working with...perhaps steal a badge, or a code, or a tiny bit of DNA...

“Where, uh -” I said quickly, before she could really get into the swing of things, “where do we meet the bachelors?”

She let out a disbelieving little laugh, looking at Daniel. His yo-yo, floating like a balloon, dropped as he gave me a somewhat pitying look. 

“At the balls, of course,” he answered.

“Right,” I said. “I know that. The balls. And there will be...dancing…”

“We can show you,” Alice said kindly, “I am sure Philip and Rupert will help, as well. We’ll begin lessons tonight! Where are you staying, have you decided?”

“Oh, er.” I had not decided at all, but figured it would be safer, overall, to just stick with what I already knew, lest my long-lost brother start to suspect who I really was. “I’d like to stay with you, if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfect,” Alice gushed, then switched seats so she could sit next to me with a little squeal. “I’ve always wanted a sister! We can navigate society together. Perhaps even a double wedding!”

Flattered that she was actually willing to share something like her wedding day with me, I smiled at her, feeling very fond despite the fact that we were still hurtling along the air. 

“Okay,” I said, settling in, “tell me about everyone else.”

She let out another little squeal before delving back in. 

*

Ada’s brother Rupert was an exhausted, gangly man with curly auburn hair and a rather impressive pair of mutton chops. He had no less than four children attached to him. 

“Two pairs of twins, if you can believe it,” he explained wearily, as one of them tugged his head sideways with a loud babble. “This one’s Eugene, the other is Ernest - and that there is Daphne and Phillipa -”

Two of them extricated themselves from his limbs to attach onto mine. The little boy tugged at my dress until I lifted him into my arms. The little girl seemed happy to hug my leg, thumb in her mouth as she stared up at me with large, luminous toddler eyes.

“Children, say hello to your Aunt Ada,” he said, “she’s come home from America!”

Eugene - or perhaps Ernest - helped himself to a clump of my hair, held tightly in one shiny fist as he teethed on it. 

“Yes, well, that’s about as good as you’ll get,” he said, turning into the home. A pair of house-elves collected the children from us and bustled off before I could greet them and potentially traumatize them for years to come. “Annabeth is in town, she’ll be pleased to see you. Where are your things?”

I explained my situation absentmindedly, trying to drink in the comfortably sized home that had been dubbed “Weasley House”. It wasn’t quite as grand as the home in the country belonging to my Aunt and Uncle, or their Manor here in the city, though it had its fair share of extraneous rooms meant entirely for decorative sitting - a sign, I was coming to gather, of wealth. I wondered at what point my family had become poor before becoming rather well-off again. 

“Well,” he sighed, “I suppose if you insist on staying at Aunt Harriet’s, that should be fine. We’ll have to entertain suitors here, of course, since I’m responsible for you.”

“Yes, of course,” I agreed hurriedly.

“And how is father, then?” He asked after what seemed like a short, intense internal battle. His tone suggested that some part of himself that he rather resented was the victor of said internal battle.

“Er, fine.”

He grunted in response, and I got the distinct impression that Rupert Weasley didn’t entirely appreciate his father gallivanting around the world breaking curses, leaving his son in charge of the entire estate and all its various, copious responsibilities. 

“I am sorry I didn’t fight harder for you to be here,” he finally murmured, “I never wished to be parted from you, but father insisted -”

“Please,” I said quickly, feeling extremely awkward. This conversation was not meant for me. It wasn’t fair of me to take this from the real Ada. “Let’s not mention it. I have not had a hard life, brother. I promise you.” 

“Yet you were found, robbed, wandless, and missing the majority of your clothing in a pigsty in Wales,” he said tightly. 

“I’m completely okay,” I assured him. “That was entirely my own fault, I wasn’t harmed.”

“I will never let something like that happen to you again,” he promised anyway. 

We met eyes. His were the exact same shade of blue as Hugo’s. 

“I know,” I said, a brother-sized ache suddenly forming in my chest. “I know.”

He nodded once, sharply, the matter clearly closed. 

“I’ve invited Ollivander to the House,” he said. “He’ll be here shortly to deliver you a wand.”

“Oh - I - thought I’d be going to Diagon Alley for that?” I asked.

“Why on Earth would you do that?” he frowned. 

“To, er, um, never mind,” I said quickly, shaking my head once. Clearly the Diagon Alley of this time was not the Diagon Alley I knew. 

“Have you forgotten the town so quickly, sister?” he asked, smiling. “You were so enthralled the first time Ollivander matched you with a wand - in this very drawing room, in fact!”

I tried to arrange my face to reflect that this information made me feel wistful for my younger days than completely baffled at the fact that Ollivander made house visits.

“It is good to be back home,” I finally said. He smiled and nodded once, eyes slightly misty, and excused himself from the room after an invitation for lunch so that I could once again meet his wife Annabeth. The maids and house-elves, he said warmly, were preparing my favorite meal.

This left me in the drawing room of Weasley House, alone despite its many occupants, feeling like the guiltiest imposter in the world.

*

Wand secured (after an intense and deeply uncomfortable session with Ollivander I was keen to never repeat - the man had a piercing, uncanny ability to read a person. I had half a mind to believe he had performed legilimancy), I felt myself slightly calmed for whatever affair Rupert and Annabeth had thrown together for lunch. I’d already allowed a handful of gleeful, glorious minutes to myself just to make magic for the sake of it. 

“Steak and Kidney pie,” Annabeth said warmly, as house-elves marched out from the kitchens to surround the table, joined by waitstaff. “Your favorite, Ada!”

I tried not to wrinkle my nose at the generous helping currently being deposited onto my plate. My favorite was actually tacos, steak and kidney pie could rot as far as I was concerned. 

“How thoughtful, thank you Annabeth,” I said with a smile. 

“It is so good to have you home,” she effused. 

I smiled again, nodding. “It’s really wonderful to be back.”

“Are you ready for your season?” Phillip - stocky, dark-haired, mischievous smile - asked as everyone tucked in. 

Context clues had taught me that this had something to do with parading myself around like some prize, hoping to catch the eye of a man so that I could become his wife/possession. I could not have possibly been  _ less _ ready for something so completely demeaning in every way. 

“Yes,” I said. 

“Nervous, are you?” he asked wisely at my sparse answer.

Disgusted, more like. “Yes,” I said. 

“Not to worry, cousin, not to worry at all,” he brandished his fork at me, a bit of meat flying from the end. It was so reminiscent of Fred that I immediately found myself liking him. “Your brother and I have everything under control. We will secure you the best match.”

“She’s already expressed an interest in Count Longbottom,” Alice said, winking my way. 

“A count?” Philip crowed, while Rupert watched my face thoughtfully, “How very ambitious, cousin, I am pleased to see you setting your sights high!”

“I just - thought he might be interesting,” I mumbled, face red from humiliation at the implication that I could only be interested in someone’s title and that this was an admirable quality. 

“She’s well-traveled,” Alice added, “she knows lots of magic. So she’d need someone at her level.”

I blushed harder at the implication that I may have come across as snobbish as Alice was making me seem. 

“Really,” I bleated, “I just thought he’d be interesting, that’s all.”

“Did you ever meet anyone interesting during your travels?” Philip asked. 

“Interesting? In what way?” I asked. I was finding it difficult to come up with any more entire fake people at present, so I was hopeful the conversation could be steered away from that. 

“Oh, just in Egypt or...perhaps Greece?” He asked. I got the sense that there was something I was missing.

“Say what you mean, Philip, do not torture your poor cousin with these sly questions,” Aunt Harriet interjected. The adults had, thus far, been eating in relative silence, clearly far more polite than us kids. 

“She was not out in Egypt or Greece,” Rupert answered for me, eyes flashing. 

“What do you mean?” I asked anyway, sort of dying to know.

“No one,” Rupert said, just as Philip laughed and said, “The Duke’s brother, said to be a prodigious rake. I’m sure you’d have caught his eye in Greece, looking how you do.”

“ _ Philip _ !” Aunt Harriet yelped, as Alice gasped and Annabeth’s utensils clattered into her plate - hands now occupied with covering her mouth.

“Watch your tongue!” Uncle Albert thundered.

“I’m not saying anything! Just that she may have met him, that’s all!” Philip said defensively, raising his hands up. Rupert, clutching his utensils tightly, had turned purple.

“I was mainly focused on curse-breaking,” I decided to lie, not entirely sure why everyone was all worked up about this, “so no, I never met anyone.”

I really wanted to ask what on Earth a “rake” was, but figured doing so would not be helpful given the current frosty silence that had descended on the table. 

“My sister’s  _ honor _ -” Rupert began with a glare.

“He was just teasing,” I cut him off, “I am not offended, and neither is my honor.”

“She has a sense of humor!” Philip crowed, sitting back with another one of those mischievous smirks, “See, nothing to worry about. I shall secure you a Count, mark my words.”

“ _ You _ are best focusing on your  _ own  _ affairs,” Aunt Harriet told Philip testily.

“Yes, speaking of rakes…” Alice added, under her breath yet just loud enough for us to hear. There was a brief tussle while Philip, grinning, pinched her cheek and she batted him away with a squeal and a “Mama, make him stop!”

“Who’s going to marry you, you’re but a child,” Philip said. 

“Who’s going to marry  _ you,  _ you’re even more of a child than I am,” she countered. 

“None of this behavior tonight, children,” Aunt Harriet said sternly, as she primly cut up her meat into small bites. 

“Er, tonight?” I asked. 

“Our first ball, of course!” Alice said, turning to me with huge eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten!”

“A...a ball, tonight?” I asked weakly. “Do I have to go - I haven’t even learned how to dance -” Merlin, I hated parties. 

“Yes, you must go,” Rupert said. “Annabeth has already prepared your dress.”

I considered putting up more of a fight (perhaps even a bit of a tantrum), but the excited, hopeful look on Annabeth’s face when she breathed, “I hope it’s to your taste!” just had me nodding and assuring her that it would be, and that I was very pleased to be attending the ball, even as I knew that this was wasting even more precious time than I could afford.

*

The ball (arriving with indecent haste after an afternoon of being primped to exhaustion) was lit by what looked like hundreds of glowing balls of light, which all floated above our heads like a constant, rippling wave. Occasionally a few would break away to amble along the crowd before rejoining the mass. There were also smaller lights, charmed to flicker in and out like fireflies from the ground up. I understood now why I’d been forced to adorn my hair with a string of fairy lights, twinkling. I had to be on theme. 

I locked eyes with a few witches as I walked in. They all immediately turned to their companions and began speaking as soon as I did, making it abundantly obvious that they were talking about me. 

“Pay them no mind,” Aunt Harriet said imperiously, “they’re only looking because they’re jealous.”

I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be making them jealous - the fact that I stood nearly a head taller than both of my companions, the red hair which was forming a nice little frizz in the evening air, or that I had tripped no less than four times on the hem of this dress as soon as I walked in.

“You’re the talk of the ton, cousin!” Philip said, bounding up with a rakish grin on his face. “I’ve had to explain who you are to no less than four lads - and Alice, Fawley’s already asked for your hand in marriage -” her eyes widened, horrified, and he quickly continued, “ - I told him no, he’s an idiot.”

“Are  _ you _ looking as well, my dear?” Aunt Harriet asked, giving him a look. “Nearly eight and twenty, you are, it’s about time to  _ settle down _ -”

“Oh,  _ Mama _ -” he groaned, as Aunt Harriet grabbed him by the arm and dragged him towards a gaggle of young women.

“Ooh, look,” Alice whispered, leaning in, “it’s the Duke Malfoy and his younger brother! I didn’t know he would be here tonight!” She gave me a sly little grin, clearly thinking of this afternoon, and nodded towards a group of what appeared to be Malfoys. The ones facing me were pale, white-blond, and pointy. There was a third, his back to me, I had to assume this was the “rake” who everyone seemed so interested in - tall, with honey-gold curly hair - wait - I knew that hair - 

The wave of relief that washed over me when he turned and I locked eyes with Malfoy - Scorpius Malfoy, the one I knew -  _ my Malfoy _ , my brain blurted at me - would have been entirely off-putting and deeply out of character under any other circumstance. But both our eyes widened as they met; I let out an inadvertent gasp. I could have collapsed from the relief. He looked similarly dazed. 

“Ada? Are you alright?” Alice asked. I blinked away from Malfoy’s face as I realized where I still was, turning to her with hope that an answer for my gaping would come to me in the moment. Thankfully, I was saved by the orchestra. It struck its first chord loudly through the party, the perfect distraction. There was a mad rush with the strike of the next note, and Alice let loose a little squeal in response, turning to me with her face alight. 

“We must find dance partners!” she exclaimed breathlessly, and scampered off into the crowd. I looked back at Malfoy, hoping I could catch his eye again - but he was already looking. He jerked his head at the garden as soon as we made eye contact, and I nodded quickly, glanced about a bit to ensure that no one was keeping track of my whereabouts, and hurried over.

The garden was large, like a maze, with bushes shaped in various magical creatures, all charmed to graze at the other foliage. Balls of light ambled along the pathways, bobbing slightly. I hurried around all of these rather haphazardly, wondering where Malfoy could have gone -

“Merlin!” I yelped when he yanked me behind a large, well-pruned bush, comfortably deep in the garden, away from the crowd. I clutched at his arms, as if to confirm that he was really there. “Merlin, I’m actually so glad to see you, are you alright?” 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he hissed back, “no, I’m not  _ alright _ , I’m in the 1800s, what the  _ fuck _ , Weasley -”

“I meant, are you well?” I cut him off, scanning him quickly from head to toe with a diagnostic spell. “We’ve traveled a long way, I’m just making sure.”

He blinked, apparently deeply taken aback at my sudden concern for his well-being. “I’m fine,” he said curtly, once he had gathered his wits, watching the tiny floating Malfoy diagram I had conjured light up in patches of green to confirm this. “Are - you - er -” he eyed the lights in my hair, as if their presence indicated a major health issue.

“I’m fine too,” I said, vanishing diagnostic-Malfoy.

“Um. Good, then.” He waited a beat, then shook his head once, as if to get back on track. “So, how are we getting home?”

I suddenly found myself wildly engrossed in watching a giraffe-shaped shrub snag a mouthful of leaves.

He snapped his fingers in front of my face, rude as ever. “Hello. Weasley. You can get us back, can’t you?”

“Well, I -” I started, tugging at a curl uncomfortably. Not knowing exactly how to finish the sentence, I merely cringed at him. 

“What does that look mean?” he asked, a tinge of panic slipping into his voice. “Weasley, you have a way of getting us back home, yes?”

“Not…exactly,” I hedged.

This appeared to be the breaking point of his composure. 

“ _ What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”  _ The words came out on a ringing snarl. His eyes were wide, panicked, as they flitted between mine. “Weasley, are we  _ stuck here _ because you tried to bat-bogey me?”

Well, it did sound very much my fault when he put it like that.

“I don’t know that we’re stuck here, necessarily,” I said. “I’ll just have to invent a way back.”

“Okay, well,” he said, gesturing with both hands erratically now, “you’re the Unspeakable, how long would something like that even take?”

My face fell back into the grimace I had widely accessorized for this conversation. “Well, um, er, that magic doesn’t really exist in the world as we know it.”

“What.”

“In fact, the mere fact that we’re still here, and nothing out of the ordinary has happened, is unprecedented,” I rushed out, despite better sense telling me I should probably take my cue from the expression on his face and shut up.

He took a deep breath in, and let it out very slowly, eyes simmering at me the whole while. 

“We are in 1817,” he finally countered flatly, “I would consider this  _ aggressively _ out of the ordinary.”

I winced. “Right,” I said, trying not to show that I was so clueless that he'd actually somehow figured out the year before I had, “I meant, like - have you heard of Eloise Mintumble?”

“ _ Who? _ ”

“Well, so, she was an Unspeakable, and she traveled back to 1402 by accident. After she left, time got really weird. Like. People just stopped existing. Tuesday lasted for two and half days, and Thursday -”

“Weasley,” he cut me off. “I cannot stress this enough. I do not care about any of this. I’ve been here for days thanks to you. I thought I was here alone. I thought - when I saw you, that we were saved. You -” He breathed out sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You were my last hope, Weasley, which is fucked up in every conceivable way.”

“Look,” I said quietly, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what caused this to happen. I didn’t even have my wand when I woke up. I don’t know how to get us back yet, but I’m working on a plan.”

He let out a breath again, stepping back so he could look away. His jaw jumped twice, like he was gritting his teeth rather forcefully. 

“I will figure this out,” I promised, stepping back into him. I gripped his arm tightly. “I promise, I will figure it out.”

“You’d better -” he started in a low voice.

“I will.” 

“I’m not staying here.”

“Neither am I. I think a lot of them still vanish their shit instead of using a toilet.”

“Don’t - is this really the time to joke?” he asked, evidently not impressed by my hilarious efforts to lighten the mood a bit as he snatched his arm back from me. “This has been really fucked up, Weasley, I’m not exactly ready to stand here and laugh about it. I’m also really pissed at you, by the way.”

“Look, I said I’m sorry,” I said, frowning. “I obviously didn’t mean for this to happen. And I said I’d fix it too, so maybe you could try to stop being foul to me for once.”

There was a short silence while we both glared off in opposite directions. The party laughed behind us, distantly. 

“You look,” Malfoy said finally, sweeping his gaze over me, “like you’re wearing a sack.”

I huffed, tugging at the fabric of my skirt a bit self-consciously. The dress wasn’t exactly flattering, it was tight right under my bust and then hung down in a shapeless, extremely uninspiring sort of way. Still, I thought the top half wasn’t too bad. The tight half-corset thing I’d been laced into made my boobs look fantastic. They moved every time I breathed. 

“Thanks,” I sneered, “you look pretty fucking stupid yourself.”

He did not. His annoying gold hair curled charmingly around his collar, he’d shaved and somehow it worked for his face, and his outfit looked...really fucking dashing, if I was being entirely honest with myself. The man could rock a waistcoat. 

“By the way,” I said, just so I could cut off this miserable train of thought, “Everyone thinks my name is Ada here.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Caspian.”

“Better than Scorpius,” I commented bracingly, as if this was some sort of silver lining. He gave me a look that suggested he despised my very being. 

“Have you noticed,” I started again, trying not to sound as desperately awkward as I felt, “that, er, people have sort of...very readily accepted us here? Like, Ada just lives in America with her father right now. Her entire family doesn’t seem suspicious of me at all. I’ve even met her brother, and he was just like, oh hello.”

“How wonderful for you,” Malfoy responded stiffly, “Caspian has been in Greece. It turns out he’s betrothed here. I suspect the real Caspian is never coming back.”

Yikes. “Well, shit,” I said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “So if you could get your shit together sooner rather than later, that would be bloody fantastic.” The last part he hissed into my face, eyes flashing. And with that, he stepped out from behind the bush, rolled his neck, and walked briskly back to the party.

Alright. I guess he’s not ready to make up just yet. 

I slipped back in a few moments later, sidling back up to Alice. She was flushed from her dance, smiling widely, as she gripped my hands with a little wiggle of joy. 

“Where have you been?” she asked breathily. “You’ve missed the first dance! Viscount Abbott asked me to dance. He’s so  _ handsome _ .”

“I was just taking a look at the gardens,” I said, searching the crowd for Malfoy. I spotted him on the other end of the dance, already watching me with a dark look on his face. I narrowed my eyes back at him. Was it really necessary for him to hold this grudge all night?

“Who are you looking at?” Alice cut through, turning her head towards him as well.

“Oh - er - no one,” I said.

“You were glaring!”

“No, I just can’t see very well,” I lied, grabbing her arm to turn her away. “Now, let’s see who we can get for your next dance!”

“Not just for me, Ada, both of us need to dance with a dashing young man,” she said, as she scanned the crowd. “It’s such a shame that the Duke’s younger brother has already been promised to Marielle Rosier. He’s quite beautiful. And,” she added mischievously, nudging me in the side, “he hasn’t stopped looking at you since you got here.”

I made a noncommittal grunt, glancing at Malfoy. He was indeed still glaring at me. I shook my head once, quickly, and cut my eyes to Alice, who was still giggling into my arm at the apparent hilarity of my being stared at by him. He furrowed his brow, but did not appear to get the message. Well, his loss if he wants everyone to think he’s obsessed with me. 

Rupert walked up to us as Alice’s giggles subsided, his arms clasped genially behind his back.

“It seems, dear sister,” he murmured, leaning in, “that you’ve captured the attention of quite a few young gentlemen.”

“Yes, I know about Malfoy’s staring,” I snapped, unable to cope any longer. Alice burst into laughter again.

Rupert merely gave me an odd look, glancing over at Malfoy. “No I am not referring to the  _ Lord  _ Malfoy,” he said mildly, though his gaze seemed to sharpen a bit, “I’ve been informed that we’re to expect some callers tomorrow, Count Longbottom being one of them. I suggest we retire for the evening. I wouldn’t want you to suggest anything to anyone with a dance.” Finally, he looked away from Malfoy and at me, eyebrow raised. 

I flushed despite myself. “Yes, er, that’s a good idea I think,” I said quickly, grateful either way for the opportunity to leave. 

“Wonderful. Shall we?” 

I grabbed his arm, and with another, final glance at Malfoy - who was, infuriatingly,  _ still _ glaring - hurried out of the party to our carriage. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s/o Eloise Mintumble and also, RIP 
> 
> Did anyone else catch my obvious and shameless Bridgerton ref I COULDN'T EVEN HELP MYSELF.


	4. friday morning//saturday evening

The next morning, Malfoy was the first to arrive. Infuriating prick.

“Aren’t you already engaged?” I snapped, when the door opened to admit him and one of the most aggressive floral arrangements I’d ever seen in my life. Rupert, chaperoning, cleared his throat. 

Malfoy smiled tightly, levitating the entire affair onto one of our tables. Immediately, the swarm of butterflies flitting about the arrangement expanded into the room. “Betrothed is not engaged. I just wanted to inform you that I’d like to take a walk with you today.”

I glared, but Rupert cleared his throat again. 

“Fine,” I said. “However, should anyone...more suitable ask, I will be walking with them after a turn about the park with you. A single turn.” 

If there was a glare for ‘Malfoy, you putrid fuck, I want to talk to the bloke who works at the Department of Mysteries’, I could have really used it in that moment. 

His eyes narrowed. “Fine.”

“Fine. Good day.”

Expression black, he whirled around and out the door, closing it behind him with a thud. With a huff, I fell back onto the settee, batting away an errant butterfly.

“You two _do_ know each other,” Rupert said suddenly, without looking up from his book.

“What - I - no, of course not!” I said, sitting up fast.

“Dear sister, I am not a fool. I suspected you may have crossed paths in Greece despite your protestations yesterday, but judging by your behavior now -”

Fuck. Fuck! Why did I ever lie that I’d been to Greece?

“I don’t like him,” I cut across shortly. 

“Well, he likes you, if that grotesquely large flower arrangement is any indication.” He turned a page as I turned baleful eyes to the thing. It really was overpowering. “I cannot speak to the accuracy of the statement that you’ve just made, sister, but I do applaud the valiant effort. He is, after all, _betrothed_.”

He lifted his eyes from the book to pin me with a look, eyebrow raised. Merlin, I miss Hugo. He’d never accuse me of being into Malfoy.

I decided I would be better served keeping my mouth firmly shut. Thankfully, I was saved from the awkward silence by the next caller, who arrived holding a sweet little bouquet. He and the next three took one look at the monstrosity Malfoy had deposited into the room and scurried out after a short conversation. I was ultimately glad for this: if a boggart could embody a concept, mine would be “small talk”. 

Finally - finally - Longbottom arrived, holding a single red rose. He cast a somewhat alarmed look at Malfoy’s addition to our decor, but met my eyes with a small, non-terrified smile. 

“Count Longbottom, how lovely to meet you,” I said, accepting the flower with a smile and scooting over to make room on the loveseat. With a glance at Rupert, he sat down. 

“Miss Weasley,” he started with a shy smile. He had a soft, measured voice. “The pleasure is all mine. I must admit I have been eager to meet you for some time.”

Not entirely sure how to answer that, I just smiled and uttered a quick, “Oh?”

“What a life you’ve had. Such adventure. The magic,” he continued, eyes alight, “you must be accomplished beyond any witch of the town.”

I blushed, but sensed my opening. “Likewise. I hear you’re an Unspeakable with the Department of Mysteries. I must admit I have always been fascinated by the position -”

“And we shall certainly discuss it all,” he cut through smoothly. I knew that deterrent technique - I used it myself on eager folks who wanted to discuss my job. I already knew his intention was to discuss fuck all about the Department. I bristled slightly at the realization that this wouldn’t be easy at all. He noticed. 

“While I cannot share my duties at the Department, I am eager to share whatever knowledge of known magic you may desire,” he appeased. I suppose asking him to let me into the Department of Mysteries would be a bit beyond the scope of what he’s offered here, though I did seriously consider asking for it. The frustration of my situation was getting to me. 

“Of course,” I said, “I’m always on the search for a companion of similar interests.”

“Then perhaps you’ll join me on promenade today?” he asked.

“Yes, I’d love to,” I said eagerly. “I have to walk with Malfoy for a bit, but -”

“Lord Caspian Malfoy?” he asked, and I quickly realized my slip-up. Calling Malfoy by his last name rather than his title was clearly not accepted in this society - not unless there was some familiarity between us, one that would be considered deeply inappropriate. A type of familiarity that had already been hinted more than once by my own family, so I could only imagine what everyone else had to say about it. 

“Yes, _Lord_ Malfoy. My apologies,” I said, unable to save face thanks to the blush that had spread into my cheeks. Rupert put his face in his hands behind us, shaking his head.

“You are acquainted?” he confirmed.

“We became acquainted in Greece,” I lied.

“You must be well acquainted.”

“No,” I said quickly, “I barely know the man. We did not quite get along, you see.”

His eyes flitted between mine, searching, but he seemed to make up his mind in my favor anyway. “Then I shall see you this afternoon,” he said, bowing over my hand, bowing once in the direction of Rupert, and then striding out the door. I leaned back with a relieved sigh. Behind me, Rupert muttered, “Unbelievable. Calling him Malfoy.”

*

I met Malfoy at the large park in the center of town, right next to Diagon Alley. Annabeth had agreed to chaperone, I suspected partially to escape her children. Malfoy had not brought a chaperone of his own. Clearly this was because he was strictly forbidden from pursuing anyone in the first place, the annoying ponce. The mild smile on his face turned slightly smug in response to my face.

“Why would you leave that - that _thing_ in my parlor?” I asked without preamble. “You scared off half my suitors.”

“Hello to you as well. I thought it’d annoy you the most,” he returned charmingly, turning so he could fall in step with me, hands clasped behind his back. “And also, in case you’ve forgotten, you’re not supposed to have any suitors, Weasley. You’re supposed to be working out how to get us back to the 21st century, where you have _no_ suitors.”

“Fuck off,” I said.

“Is that why you’re taking so long?” he continued meanly, “Basking in the attention that even McLaggen wouldn’t give to you?”

There was a full 30 seconds of ringing silence after that one. 

“You loathsome _prick_ ,” I snarled, turning on him. I knew for a fact that my cheeks were flushed scarlet. My face felt hot with humiliation. I was exhausted of him. “What makes you think you can talk to me like that?”

“Come off it Weasley, I always talk to you like this,” he said, looking uncomfortable. 

“I’m leaving,” I said coldly, my voice wavering slightly despite my best efforts. His mouth fell open a little at my expression, but before he could take a closer look I whirled around and stalked off as quickly as I could in the confines of this dress and its accompanying outer robe. I had never let Malfoy see how effectively he could get under my skin - my pride and sharp tongue always had a scathing retort ready for our battle of wits. But a woman only has so much tolerance for someone snarling their biggest insecurities at them as though it’s easy to pinpoint exactly where they lack as a person. I was tired. And for Malfoy to insinuate _this_ -

“That was out of line,” he said in a low voice. To my dismay, he was keeping up with me with little effort. “Obviously I don’t think you’re biding your time for attention. Besides, McLaggen is an idiot.”

“I _know_ McLaggen is an idiot,” I snapped, “which makes it all the more humiliating that _he’s_ the one who didn’t show up.”

There was a brief pause.

“He didn’t show up because he was in the hospital,” Malfoy muttered.

“What?” I stopped in my tracks again, turning to face him. “Not that I care at all, because, again, it’s McLaggen, but -”

“I kicked his arse a little too hard during training.” Malfoy was looking everywhere but at me, and the expression on his face was...guilty? “So. He was at Mungo’s. That’s the only reason he couldn’t show up. He still very vocally thinks you’re hot and will probably ask you out again, and I will go easy on him next time if you’re that desperate to go out with him -”

“Shut up,” I cut across, turning to walk again. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“It clearly mattered,” he grumbled, “you were all - red.”

“I need you to stop acting like you’re interested in me,” I plowed on, keen to pretend this conversation had not happened, “because I need to get close to Longbottom.”

“I am not acting like anything,” he snapped.

“Don’t be an idiot, I’m sure someone advised you against getting me that bouquet. People are getting suspicious, and we don’t need any extra attention on us. We have to affect this society as little as we possibly can, we have to preserve the future -”

“Why do you need to get close to Longbottom?” He cut me off, clearly not interested in my lecture.

“He’s an Unspeakable.”

Understanding and regret clashed on his face. “Look, Weasley, I am sorry about what I said. You do have your priorities in order. And I’m sure you have suitors back home.”

“Thanks, Malfoy,” I said, surprised. 

“Perhaps a troll or two that’s single.” He grinned.

Of course.

“Yeah,” I said drily, rolling my eyes. 

“Heard Grawp is looking.”

“Oh, he’s a good one - so handsome, only eighty-something.”

“On second thought, he’s too good for you.”

“Hmm. Shame.”

Thankfully, I spotted Longbottom up ahead, signalling that our walk was going to soon come to a glorious end. 

“Well, this has been unpleasant as usual -”

“A few things,” Malfoy said, leaning into my ear. “Hurry. I pissed off Caspian’s brother with that bouquet. He thinks I’m playing games with you to get out of the engagement. They’re beginning negotiations within the week. Second, don’t try to flirt with Longbottom, you don’t want to scare him off. You’re terrible at it, I’ve seen you in action - ”

“Does it physically hurt you to speak to me without adding in an insult?” I asked exasperatedly, turning my face up to him again when we arrived at the little walking bridge where Longbottom was meant to retrieve me. 

“Yes, very much.” He shot me what he clearly thought was a charming, playful sort of grin. This close up, I could count the beauty marks on his face. He had four. And very long eyelashes. And a bit of a dimple, actually -

I startled when he abruptly grabbed my hand to smack a large wet kiss against the back of it. He stepped away, backwards, laughing as I squealed at the spit and aggressively wiped it off on my robe.

“I’ll see you soon!” He called.

“Hopefully not!” I called back. 

This left me irritable and distracted for my entire walk with Longbottom, though he thankfully did not notice. He seemed happy to prattle on about his estates and his family, skirting the conversation of his job with ease despite my repeated attempts to bring it up. Eventually I gave up and pretended to listen while my mind wandered the possibilities of just breaking into the Ministry myself. This seemed to do the trick: probably pleased with the prospect of a wife who simply shut the fuck up at all times, Longbottom ended the walk with a request for a visit in two days, after the next ball. 

I grit my teeth behind my smile. I needed a better plan to get him to talk about the right things. 

*

The next day, Malfoy arrived unannounced and with an even larger bouquet. The flowers, arriving close-lipped, all unfurled like a choreographed ballet when he placed it onto the table in a second sitting room (the first being overrun with butterflies from the last abomination he unleashed upon us). I truly didn’t know what to say to this: I stood there, fully agape, as the entire thing swayed and the flowers twirled open and shut. Malfoy had the nerve to look proud of it. 

Rupert, still grumpy from his unfinished tea and annoyed that we’d had to rush over here to greet Malfoy mid-breakfast, finally seemed to decide that he’d had enough of this. 

“I must inquire, Lord Malfoy, that you state your intentions behind such a lavish piece of magic for my sister,” he said testily, “as I am to understand that your hand has been promised to another since birth.”

“I simply wanted to gift Miss Weasley a few flowers - came up with the magic myself, brilliant, isn’t it?” he added eagerly to me, “I have got an unreasonable amount of free time on my hands.”

“It’s...really...something,” I said weakly, still rather hypnotized by the entire affair as a row of roses all opened and then closed in a rippling wave. If this was Malfoy’s definition of “a few flowers”, I was genuinely afraid of what he might consider decadent. I also wondered what type of bloke filled his unreasonable free time by figuring out how to charm a bouquet to behave as obnoxiously as possible. I was horrified to conclude that it was overall rather charming and wholesome, two words which I had never before wanted to associate with Scorpius Malfoy. 

“I must insist that you focus the attention of your gifts on your future wife,” Rupert said, “I can only surmise that your intentions with my sister -”

“It’s not my intention to be traded away like currency,” Malfoy cut through, pinning him with a firm look, “and it’s not my intention to treat your sister with anything other than respect.”

I suppressed my snort. Malfoy had once physically rubbed mud into my hair after a particularly nasty Quidditch match during which he hadn’t even tried to hide his obvious attempts to target me for death via bludger, leading me to vent my frustrations by sprinting at him and tackling him to the ground as soon as we all touched down. We had then proceeded to roll around in some kind of wet, furious wrestling/shoving-each-other over match right there in the rain with the entire school watching. But yes, sure, nothing but respect. 

Rupert’s jaw clicked shut, but it was clear he was still irritated. 

“Can we go for a walk?” Malfoy asked me. I grimaced. I had nothing to report after my failed attempts at getting to Longbottom yesterday, and the last thing I needed was Malfoy berating me about it.

“She cannot,” Rupert snapped. “In fact, I rather insist that you stop damaging her reputation any further.”

I shot him an annoyed glance. “There’s a garden here. It’s private. Rupert can chaperone from the window as he finishes up his tea.” 

“Ada -!”

Leaving him behind to splutter indignantly at the pair of us, I led Malfoy through the house and out into the backyard. 

“So, what information have you gathered?” Malfoy asked as soon as we seemed sufficiently out of earshot.

I grimaced again. “He won’t talk,” I said, “The man can’t be bothered to shut up about his eight trillion homes, but I can’t get a single thing about how to get into the Department.”

“Do you have any other ideas?” He asked.

“No,” I said.

There was a short silence. It struck me that this was officially the longest conversation I’d ever had with Malfoy without a deeply personal insult involved. 

“How are betrothal negotiations?” I asked. “I hope you’re getting a sufficient amount of cattle.”

He snorted. “Still working out a way to derail that whole thing. Though they did recently offer six horses for me to stop sending you flowers, so.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it.

“Completely serious,” he deadpanned. 

“You should really double down on the flowers, then,” I said, “just start sending them to every single girl in town _except_ for her.”

“That’s a little bit evil, Weasley, I’m impressed.” This he followed up with a long, thoughtful look, eyes narrowed slightly.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. Gave me an idea.” He said this slowly, still staring at me in a way that was now starting to make me feel a bit ill. 

I eyed him distrustfully. “What sort of idea?”

“Not one you’ll like. Later, Weasley.”

“Wait - Malfoy - what -”

With a flash of teeth and a nefarious chuckle, he apparated away like the rude fucking bugger he was. Whatever idea I’d given him was already making my skin crawl. Seething that I’d had to piss off Rupert - and inevitably face an afternoon of disapproving sighs and/or a lecture - for a conversation that lasted maybe two entire minutes, I stomped back into the house. Annabeth was upon me the second I stepped through the back door, grabbing me by the arm and marching me purposefully into a sitting room before I was able to protest or even fully grasp what was happening. 

“What on earth is going on with you two?” she asked sharply and without preamble, turning to me. I did not miss that she had positioned herself between me and the door, making it impossible for me to escape.

“ _Nothing_ ,” I stressed, sounding false even to my own ears. 

“It is not nothing. Do not try to make a fool of me,” she said. 

“We’re just,” I floundered slightly, searching for the best words, “well, we’re just familiar faces in a new place, that’s all.”

“Right,” she said dryly. 

“That’s really it,” I insisted.

“Or...he loves you,” she said, with a little scoff at my pathetic response. 

“No!”

Face stony, she merely gestured at the bouquet he had dropped off this morning. It wiggled feebly in response to our attention, apparently exhausted from its showy display earlier. 

“He just - likes magic,” I got out weakly. 

“Ada,” she said, sounding almost incredulous, “for your sake, please, you cannot be involved with a man who is engaged to another!” 

“Betrothed,” I corrected, and immediately regretted doing so. 

“My dear,” she said, voice ringing in tones of forced patience, “as a married woman who understands this society better than most, I must caution you. You must cease interactions with that man while he is still promised to another.” She gave me a meaningful look at this, and I sighed sharply before realizing this was actually what I wanted all along: Malfoy leaving me the fuck alone. I would have a better shot at getting to Longbottom and getting us both out of here if Malfoy was no longer actively distracting me by rousing the suspicions of my family and/or generally stressing me out. I mean, truly, _what_ a shame I wouldn’t have to answer to him anymore, and had a perfectly good reason for doing so. 

“I understand,” I said, trying to seem appropriately glum about the whole thing. 

“Good girl,” she said briskly, patting me gently on the cheek, “now, I’ll distract your brother, he’s quite furious, and you escape on to your Aunt’s house to get ready for tonight’s ball.”

She flitted out of the room and I let loose my horrified groan: I’d completely forgotten I had to attend another one of those blasted things. 

-

5p.m. found me, arms intertwined with Alice, trotting wearily into the venue holding the second ball of the season. Today’s theme was nature, and I had been put in an emerald green dress embroidered with tiny white flowers, blooming open and closed intermittently like blinking stars. My hair was gathered into a half-bun, sprigs of baby’s breath around the bun and dotting the tumble of red curls underneath. I felt ridiculous playing dress-up while time ticked on, relentless. The nervous energy thrummed through me. I knew I’d been jittery and restless the entire day, answering Alice in a state of distraction that bordered on rudeness. She - sweet, patient person that she was - bore it all in good humor. 

I scanned the mingling crowd for Longbottom as we stepped up onto the dance floor, draped by a ceiling of flowers. 

“Are you searching for - him?” Alice asked from next to me.

“Yes,” I answered distractedly. 

“Is that wise, do you think?” she murmured, looking anxious. I stopped looking around to blink down at her, surprised. She was looking at me with wide, innocent eyes, worry etched onto her pretty face. It felt, all of a sudden, deeply wrong that she was searching for a husband at her age, destined to be married to someone probably much older than she was.

“Searching for Count Longbottom is unwise?” I asked, and her face cleared up. 

“Oh - no, no, that’s quite lovely, actually, I thought you -” 

“I am not pursuing Lord Malfoy,” I said gently. “I understand he’s betrothed, and how that would look for our family if I were to keep being seen with him.”

She blushed, looking down, but unable to hide the full relief on her face at my statement. It hit me a second time that she was so very _young_ , and so very trapped by this society. I opened my mouth again, not sure what to say, but feeling very guilty for whatever stress I’d clearly caused her, when a voice rang out loudly in front of us.

“A dance, Miss Weasley?”

Malfoy. He’d been done up in navy blue, clearly not giving a single shit about staying on theme, which made me feel even more ridiculous. I mean, Merlin. I had so many flowers in my hair. 

“No,” I said shortly, and tugged Alice to walk around him.

“I insist,” he practically shouted, darting up in front of us again. The people closest to us turned at his obnoxious voice, eyeing us all with whispers. Alice glanced around, turning pink. 

“I said no,” I lowered my voice, hoping that my becoming quieter would somehow offset him.

“Just one dance,” he yelled, as I widened my eyes at him in warning, “I truly must insist!” More people had turned to us at the sound of his shout, everyone looking alarmed. 

“Malfoy,” I hissed.

“Just go, please,” Alice whispered to me, cutting me off before I could go further, “everyone is staring, he won’t stop until you do.”

“I don’t want to!”

“Please join me for this dance,” he bellowed, looking as though he was thoroughly enjoying this, the great fucking prat. 

“Go,” Alice whimpered, turning redder under all the stares. With an annoyed grunt, I unfolded myself from her and placed my hand into Malfoy’s, yelping as he yanked me towards him at the start of the music. We started some sort of awkward, forceful jig.

“What are you playing at?” I hissed, looking around. It felt like everyone was watching. When I looked back up at him, he had pressed himself closer, running his eyes along my collarbones so flagrantly that he may have just as well been using his fingers. 

“ _Malfoy!_ ”

“Can you stop being so stiff,” he just said pleasantly, attempting to do something that one could categorize as “gaze soulfully into my eyes”. He may have succeeded at it if I didn’t respond with a wide-eyed stare of alarm and disgust.

“You should not have done this,” I snapped, refusing to relax my rigid stance as I looked away and back to the crowd, where I could just catch a glimpse of Rupert and Annabeth, both watching us. 

“I realized,” he murmured, eyes glimmering as he smirked, “that it rather works in my favor if people think I’m in love with you. Rosier has threatened to fully revoke the betrothal.”

I opened my mouth to hotly contest my involvement in his grimy plans, but we had to briefly switch partners. I glared at him the whole time I danced around my new partner. He held my gaze, a light smirk firmly on his mouth as if this was some sweet little flirtation. 

“Surely you can find another way of getting out of it that doesn’t involve _me_ ,” I continued, once I was back. He stroked his fingers on my shoulder blade. I stomped down on his foot, hard. 

“I’m sure I could,” he grunted, trodding on my toes in return. I hissed, pushing my hand against his chest to shove him away, dance be damned. He merely grabbed it, folding it into his giant hand and holding it in place as he continued, “but this one fell into my lap so easily, and coming up with another requires so much effort.” Our eyes clashed: mine furious, his amused.

With a grunt, I pushed away forcefully, just to be swept up into the arms of my temporary partner and deposited back to Malfoy a few seconds later.

“I’m also not sure it could work half as well.” This he said with a final smirk, letting me go at last to clap for the orchestra. 

“Besides,” he continued, leaning into my ear during the applause, “you owe me, Weasley, for dumping me into this Jane Austen _nightmare_.”

I gave him a disgruntled look. “How long are you going to hold that over my head?”

“I’ll consider stopping once you’ve gotten us back to the 21st century.”

I huffed and, without sparing him another glance, walked off to the other end of the ballroom. To my enormous annoyance, he followed. We set up a bit away from the crowd: me, scowling, arms crossed tightly; Malfoy (having dropped his faux-lovelorn act without an audience to impress) scowling just as hard. 

“Can you fuck off?” I muttered at him through gritted teeth, staring hard at the new dance that had struck up. 

“No,” He responded shortly. 

“ _Malfoy_ -”

“Drop it.”

“Malfoy -!”

“I’m not getting fucking married and this is my last resort, Weasley, _so drop it_ ,” he hissed. I growled faintly under my breath but didn’t argue - it didn’t seem fair to protect my interests at the expense of his when it was, ultimately, my fault we were here at all. We spent the next few minutes marinating in our stiff, annoyed silence. I suppose I should count the blessing that people had stopped watching us, which was a great relief because - 

“Miss Weasley,” Count Longbottom approached with an easy smile, bowing over my hand. “You are looking radiant as usual. Perhaps that is why no one can keep themselves from you.”

At this, he cast a pointed look at Malfoy. He met Count Longbottom’s eyes evenly, raising an eyebrow as if daring him to restate the sentiment in more straightforward terms.

“And how is your evening?” I cut through hurriedly, wishing that he had caught me in a better mood, sans-Malfoy. 

“Better,” he said, “now that I’m speaking with you.”

“Kill me,” Malfoy muttered audibly, rolling his eyes so dramatically that a laugh burst out of me, entirely accidental. I tried to hastily turn it into a cough, but Malfoy had turned his head quickly at the laugh, blinking at me as though he was entirely shocked by the reaction. As if I’d never laughed at him before. 

“Erm,” I said, coughing a few more times for good measure and turning away from Malfoy’s slowly growing smirk, “that’s very sweet.”

Longbottom’s eyes were cutting between the two of us.

“In fact,” he said, fixing his look to me, “I was rather hoping I could steal you away for a few dances?”

“Oh, yes,” I said, eager to try my hand at getting information out of him again, “I’d love that.”

“You promised me the next few dances,” Malfoy cut across loudly.

“I did not,” I responded pleasantly, not looking away from Count Longbottom. 

“I am sure your fiancee is searching for you,” Longbottom added to Malfoy.

“I don’t have a fiancee,” he snapped back, baring his teeth slightly. “But perhaps _you_ could run along -”

“Malfoy!” I admonished, as Longbottom’s eyes widened angrily. “Please do not cause a scene,” I hissed, glancing around myself to ensure that no one else had realized we had a situation brewing here. 

“Can I talk to you?” He asked curtly.

“Later,” I said.

“Now.”

“Later.”

“ _Rose_.”

I took in a sharp breath, giving him a warning glare. Longbottom looked between us again, curiously.

“Is everything -?” he began.

“I’ll be back,” I told him sweetly, and then whirled around to the garden, Malfoy presumably at my heels. We stalked off to our favorite shrub. 

“I need to keep working on him, which I can do during a dance,” I began without preamble, “so what the fuck is your deal?”

“You need to go about this a different way,” He hissed, “You’re wasting his time by flirting with him for answers, which is _obviously_ not working. You’re also wasting _our_ time, Weasley, I’m literally fighting off an arranged marriage and _I’m not fucking winning_.” 

I lowered my hackles, taking in what was a clearly frazzled Malfoy - a state I didn’t see often.

“Is everything okay with that?” I asked softly, a bit ashamed that I’d treated this so callously before. 

“Obviously not, have you been listening to me -”

“No, I mean, like -” I struggled to tone my voice so that the words came out less worried, “ - you’re not like, hurt, or -”

“No,” he said, rolling his eyes, “they’re not barbaric.”

“Okay, just checking.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know. I was just checking.”

We stood there awkwardly for a minute, unsure how to proceed from this. 

“Anyway,” Malfoy finally said abruptly, “I’m not done about Longbottom. What if he was supposed to meet his wife here, and you got in the way of that? Have you thought about that at all?”

I could feel my face turning a bit pink, giving me away: I had not. I’d been too focused on my plan of being close to him as frequently as possible in case he let anything slip. “Well,” I said, “What else do I do? I need him to get into the Department of Mysteries, remember?”

“That’s not going to happen with the route you’re trying to take. You should tell him the truth. You should ask him for help,” Malfoy suggested.

I scoffed. “Sure, great solution -”

“I’m serious, Weasley. He’s an Unspeakable. I’m sure that something like this wouldn’t be out of the question for someone like him.”

I shook my head while he was still talking. “No, I _can’t_. It would destroy our timeline as we know it, Malfoy. The Department of Mysteries doesn’t begin conducting time travel experiments until the 1890’s.”

He breathed out a “fuck” through his teeth. 

“Well,” he said again, abruptly, “why would you need to get in, then? If they wouldn’t have any equipment for time travel anyway?”

I huffed out sharply. I had no other option.

“They have a room, there, dedicated entirely to time,” I said. “They haven’t begun traveling experiments, but that room should still exist. That’s where I need to go. I don’t know anywhere else that would have such a concentrated amount of time-related magical equipment.”

Malfoy spent what felt like a full minute simply staring at me. 

“So, just to summarize this aloud since you clearly haven’t thought this through,” Malfoy said finally, “your plan was to...seduce Longbottom, in _this_ society, without marrying him. This is on the off chance he reveals some great secret or brings you to the Department of Mysteries - notorious for allowing that sort of thing, of course - and then, what? Set up shop in their Time Room, and proceed undetected in your quest to invent a time travel device?”

I opened my mouth to immediately contest this, but didn’t have much to say. I flushed scarlet as I realized that, yes, this was indeed my plan. It sounded awfully stupid laid out in Malfoy’s drawling disdain. In fact, it _was_ awfully stupid, half-thought at best, riddled with what-ifs and open ends.

“I’ll admit it’s not the best plan,” I finally said tightly.

“No, it’s bloody well _not._ ” 

“Well,” I said, voice rising a bit in defense, “I’m not a - plotter! I don’t know how to manipulate my way through a master plan to get what I’d like -”

“Yes, I’m well aware that you are _not_ a Slytherin,” he said, “but I didn’t think you were this useless. That’s not even a plan. That’s barely a collection of thoughts.” 

“I’m trying my best,” I snapped.

“It’s not good enough,” he retorted, looking furious. “Merlin, I truly thought you had this handled, you know, I’m an _idiot._ ”

“I bloody well know it’s not good enough, Malfoy - I don’t know what else to do!” Tears, unbidden, sprung into my eyes. I had not allowed myself to cry once since I’d gotten here. Frankly, I hadn’t had the opportunity. I was barely keeping my head above water. All my energy went into keeping up with things as they happened to me. Now that the tears had appeared, however, it seemed they were determined to stay. “I don’t even exactly know what I’ll do once I’m in the Department,” I sobbed, as Malfoy watched on disgustedly, “I am terrified that we’ll be stuck here - and it’ll be all my fault - Malfoy, I’m so sorry -” My voice crept towards hysteria.

“Okay, hey,” he finally said gruffly, patting me gingerly on the shoulder. “It’ll be alright. I’m just being an arsehole. Please don’t cry. I’m really uncomfortable.”

With a desperate sort of gasp-sob, I leaned right into the middle of his chest, face pressed tightly against buttons. 

“Oh, come on,” he said, sounding terrified as I blubbered, “these aren’t even my clothes, Weasley, you’re destroying them!”

“I just need a minute,” I wailed. He patted me again, awkwardly on the bit of head not adorned with flowers, as I finished up, then passed me a handkerchief and politely looked away as I wiped my face and blew my nose. I breathed out once, sharply, feeling lighter. 

“Thank you,” I said, “I really needed that.” I felt not an ounce of humiliation. In fact, it seemed Malfoy was the one who was mortified, if his red-tipped ears were any indication. 

“It’s fine,” he said, vanishing the handkerchief with a flick of his wand when I offered it back to him, “I suppose I haven’t been helping with the strain, demanding we get back without actually offering any help. I always knew you were shite at all this.”

“Well, to be fair to you, I'm a bit stubborn about accepting help. Besides, it _is_ my fault we’re here in the first place,” I said, deciding to let the dig slide because, frankly, it was true. 

“I didn’t have to go on about McLaggen that day,” he said, almost begrudgingly, “I was trying to piss you off.”

Ah. Malfoy felt as though he’d tipped me into a breaking point that resulted in my disastrous bat-bogey. He _was_ mortified - perhaps mostly because he felt guilty.

“Equal to blame, then?” I asked.

“Thirty-seventy, still on you.” He smirked, almost conspiratorial. 

“You’re really rather irritating and far less funny than you think.”

“Bit of a rude thing to say,” he responded mildly, “but I’ll let it pass, you’re having a crisis.”

I allowed myself to look at him properly, then: assessing where the end of my strengths lay, which marked the beginning of his. This moment was quiet. It only held Malfoy and me. I felt on the edge of something important.

“I don’t need Longbottom,” I realized aloud. “ _You_ could get me into the Department of Mysteries.”

“Yes, I could,” he said. “I’d just need the time to come up with a plan for the mission.”

“You’re good at those,” I confirmed. “Plans for missions, and all.”

“Yes.” He agreed, his tone implying the “obviously” he didn’t say. “Have you forgotten I’m an Auror?”

“Hmm.” I studied him thoughtfully. It had not ever occurred to me that Malfoy was a natural ally here, and I should have been treating him as one. To be fair, that would be going against every instinct I possessed: Malfoy and I had never agreed on _anything_. Once he even insisted that vomit-flavored Bertie Botts were “not all that bad” just because I said I hated them. 

“What?” he asked warily.

“I’m just realizing,” I said, “that we’d have a chance of getting out of here if we worked as a team.”

“You’re _just_ realizing?” Malfoy said incredulously. He opened his mouth again, presumably to tell me off or something, but just then Rupert’s voice rang out in the gardens.

“Ada?”

Our heads whipped around the noise, and then - comically in unison - whipped back, facing each other with identical looks of horror. 

“ _Go,_ ” I hissed, and Malfoy disappeared with a tell-tale _pop!_ Rupert turned the corner not a minute later, and I knew from the look on his face that he had heard the sound of apparition. 

“Ada, what are you doing here?” he asked sharply, striding forward. 

“I just needed some air,” I said feebly.

“Were you here alone?” he pressed.

“Yes,” I lied, badly. His eyes searched between mine.

“Caspian Malfoy is also missing from the party. People have noticed.” A quiet sort of anger was simmering in his voice. “Ada, the _ruin_ it could bring our family -”

“I’d like to go home,” I said softly.

“Ada -”

“ _Please_.”

Clearly not happy about it, he grabbed my arm and apparated us away directly from within the garden. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I am terribly sorry for the long delay, the entire month of February sort of got away from me. My job likes to keep me busy in spurts of extreme workload interspersed with stretches of relative calm. It is excellent for my mental health. I love my job. Love it. Truly. The more I keep saying it the faker it sounds but I genuinely love my job, you guys. 
> 
> Anyway, I did not realize that this chapter ended up as long as it did but at least I got the plot moving along a bit, eh? Would love to hear any & all thoughts, drop a review! :)


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